In 2014, I wrote a series of blogs called Falling for a Narcissist: A Victim Perspective.
At the time, I was reflecting, trying to understand and make sense of a relationship that had left me frightened, confused and deeply wounded. The person involved had been diagnosed with a personality disorder, and I immersed myself in research, searching for language that could help me make sense of what I had experienced.
The original blogs combined that research with lived experience. They were written with the benefit of hindsight, but still from within the longer aftermath, as I reflected on the relationship, its impact and the process of finding my way back to myself. I was still trying to understand how a relationship that had initially felt loving and hopeful had become so incredibly destructive.
Twelve years after writing that blog, I would write the piece differently.
Not because the experience was any less real, or because the behaviour was any less harmful, but because my understanding of trauma, personality, relationships and recovery has grown considerably.
I now recognise the importance of separating a clinical diagnosis from abusive behaviour.
Narcissistic Personality Disorder is a complex mental health condition that can only be diagnosed by an appropriately qualified professional. Not everyone who behaves selfishly, manipulatively or abusively has NPD. Equally, receiving a diagnosis of NPD does not automatically mean that a person will abuse others.
Abuse is abuse because of the behaviour and its impact—not simply because of a diagnostic label.
This updated article is therefore not intended to diagnose anyone. It is an exploration of what it can feel like to become caught in a relationship characterised by manipulation, coercive control, emotional inconsistency, devaluation and fear.
It is also about recovery: how we begin to recognise what happened, release the shame that was never ours to carry and reconnect with the parts of ourselves we may have learned to silence.
When Something Does Not Feel Right
One of the most powerful questions I asked in the original blog was:
Why are you searching for answers?
What has led you to question your relationship?
What emotions are you experiencing?
Do you generally feel safe, respected and accepted, or do you spend much of your time feeling anxious, confused, diminished or afraid?
Healthy relationships can experience conflict, frustration and disagreement. No relationship is happy or harmonious all of the time. However, a healthy relationship should not routinely leave one person questioning their memory, their value, their sanity or their right to have needs.
If you repeatedly find yourself wondering:
What did I do wrong?
Why are they so different today?
Why do I feel as though I am walking on eggshells?
Why am I constantly explaining myself?
Why do I no longer recognise who I am?
then those questions deserve attention.
Our emotional responses are not always a perfect interpretation of events, but neither are they meaningless inconveniences to be overridden. They can provide important information about how safe, respected and connected we feel.
Many of us have been taught to distrust emotion. We are told not to overreact, not to wear our hearts on our sleeves, not to be too sensitive and not to let feelings rule our decisions.
However, emotions are part of the body’s internal communication system. Fear, unease, confusion and tension may be signalling that something requires our attention.
Recovery often begins when we stop asking, “What is wrong with me?” and begin asking, “What has been happening to me?”
Understanding Narcissistic Personality Disorder
Narcissistic Personality Disorder is associated with enduring patterns that may include grandiosity, a strong need for admiration, entitlement, interpersonal difficulties and reduced capacity or willingness to recognise the feelings and needs of others.
People may also experience an unstable or vulnerable sense of self beneath an outward appearance of confidence or superiority. Criticism, rejection or perceived humiliation may be experienced as particularly threatening.
The precise causes of NPD are not fully understood. As with many personality conditions, development is likely to involve a complex interaction between temperament, early relationships, attachment experiences, family environment, culture and other psychological and biological factors.
It is important not to reduce the condition to simplistic explanations such as “too much praise” or “bad parenting.” Human development is rarely that straightforward.
NPD is not diagnosed from a checklist completed by a partner or from a collection of difficult behaviours found online. Diagnosis involves professional assessment of long-standing patterns across different situations, the impact of those patterns and the exclusion of other possible explanations.
Psychotherapy may support some people with NPD, particularly when they recognise their difficulties and are motivated to engage with treatment. However, change requires insight, commitment and personal responsibility.
A difficult childhood, a mental health condition or a history of being harmed may help explain behaviour, but it does not excuse harming someone else.
Compassion and accountability can exist together.
The Beginning: When the Relationship Feels Extraordinary
Many survivors describe the beginning of a manipulative relationship as intense, exciting and unusually affirming.
The other person may appear attentive, charming, generous, interested and emotionally available. There may be long conversations, frequent messages, powerful declarations and a sense that the relationship is somehow exceptional.
The survivor may feel deeply seen.
They may hear:
“I’ve never met anyone like you.”
“You understand me in a way nobody else does.”
“I’ve waited my whole life for someone like you.”
“We are meant to be together.”
This experience is sometimes described as idealisation or love-bombing. However, not every affectionate or enthusiastic beginning is manipulative. New relationships often involve excitement, heightened attention and a natural desire to present our best selves.
The concern is not simply that someone is charming or romantic.
The concern arises when intensity is used to accelerate trust, bypass boundaries, create dependency or establish a level of emotional commitment that has not yet had time to develop naturally.
Persona: The Person We Believe We Have Met
Carl Jung used the term persona to describe the social face or role we present to the world.
We all have personas.
We present ourselves differently at work, on a first date, with friends or in a professional setting. Presenting our best qualities is not inherently deceptive. It becomes harmful when a carefully constructed image is used to mislead another person and conceal patterns of exploitation, aggression or control.
In the early stages of a manipulative relationship, the other person may appear to share the survivor’s interests, values, hopes and beliefs.
They may seem extraordinarily similar.
They listen closely, ask personal questions and remember important details. This can feel like intimacy, but it may also provide information about the survivor’s vulnerabilities, desires, fears and unmet needs.
The survivor has no reason to assume that these disclosures will later be used against them.
They believe they are building trust.
The Invisible Process of Building Trust – The Invisible Seduction
No one knowingly hands their heart, finances, private information or personal safety to someone they believe will harm them.
People enter relationships because the other person appears trustworthy.
Trust is built through words, actions, consistency, shared experiences and emotional disclosure. In a manipulative relationship, that entirely ordinary process may be deliberately exploited.
The person may identify what the survivor longs for or lacks:
Affection.
Security.
Belonging.
Practical support.
Financial stability.
Companionship.
Childcare.
Transport.
Confidence.
Hope for the future.
They then position themselves as the answer.
The support may feel generous and unconditional. Yet, over time, gifts, money, favours or practical help may become leverage.
What was freely offered may later be presented as a debt.
“You would have nothing without me.”
“After everything I’ve done for you…”
“Nobody else would put up with you.”
“You owe me.”
It is important to say this clearly: accepting help does not make someone responsible for being abused.
Trusting a person who appeared trustworthy is not foolishness. It is a normal human response to the information that was available at the time.
When the Relationship Changes
For many survivors, the most bewildering part of the experience is the sudden change.
The warmth diminishes.
Affection is withdrawn.
Conversations that once seemed fascinating are now treated as irritating or tedious. Jokes that were once shared are met with contempt. The survivor may encounter criticism, eye-rolling, dismissiveness, secrecy, unexplained absences or increasing hostility.
They may begin to ask:
“What happened?”
“What have I done?”
“Is there someone else?”
“How can I get us back to how we were?”
This is often described as the devaluation stage.
Again, relationships naturally evolve. The intensity of a new romance usually settles, and people become more aware of each other’s imperfections.
Devaluation is different.
It involves a repeated erosion of dignity, confidence and emotional safety.
The survivor may be criticised for needing reassurance, accused of being jealous for noticing secretive behaviour or described as controlling for requesting ordinary communication and mutual consideration.
The relationship begins to operate through inconsistency.
Affection may briefly return and then disappear again.
There may be apologies, promises and renewed closeness, followed by another period of rejection or cruelty.
This creates a powerful push-and-pull dynamic.
Why Inconsistency Can Become So Powerful
When affection and rejection alternate unpredictably, the nervous system can become increasingly focused on restoring connection.
The survivor may try harder.
They may become quieter, more accommodating or more vigilant. They monitor tone of voice, facial expression and mood. They begin anticipating what might trigger criticism or anger.
They may describe themselves as walking on eggshells.
Periods of kindness become enormously significant because they offer relief from distress. The return of warmth may be interpreted as evidence that the original loving relationship still exists and can be recovered.
This is one reason simplistic questions such as “Why didn’t you just leave?” are so damaging.
The survivor is not responding only to the present moment. They are holding the memory of the earlier relationship, hoping for its return and trying to understand what they must do differently to restore it.
The occasional return of affection may reinforce that hope.
The survivor may believe:
“If I am less demanding…”
“If I stop upsetting them…”
“If I become more understanding…”
“If I can prove that I love them…”
“Then things will go back to how they were.”
But one person cannot regulate, repair or transform another person through love, compliance or sacrifice.
It is like one person drinking alcohol and expecting someone else to become intoxicated.
Change belongs to the person whose behaviour needs to change.
Gaslighting and the Loss of Trust in Yourself
Gaslighting is a pattern of manipulation that causes someone to doubt their perception, memory or understanding of events.
The survivor raises a concern and is told it never happened.
They describe how something affected them and are told they are too sensitive.
They notice a contradiction and are accused of being confused.
They express fear or discomfort and are told they are imagining things because of previous relationships.
Some statements may contain enough truth to create doubt.
Perhaps the survivor has experienced trauma before.
Perhaps they do feel anxious.
Perhaps they have become jealous, frightened or reactive.
The manipulative person may use these genuine reactions as proof that the survivor is the problem, while ignoring the context in which those reactions developed.
Over time, the survivor may no longer trust their own interpretation.
They become dependent on the very person causing the confusion to explain reality to them.
Isolation and the Breakdown of Support
Friends and family may notice changes before the survivor does.
They may see increased anxiety, withdrawal, exhaustion or diminished confidence. They may express concern about the relationship.
The survivor, still holding the memory of the early loving connection, may defend their partner.
The manipulative person may anticipate criticism and provide explanations:
“Your family has never wanted you to be happy.”
“Your friend is jealous.”
“They don’t understand what we have.”
“They are trying to control you.”
Sometimes the person attempts to charm those who might challenge them. At other times, they create conflict and encourage the survivor to withdraw.
Eventually, the survivor may become isolated from the people most likely to offer perspective and support.
This is rarely experienced as one dramatic moment. It often happens slowly, through repeated disagreements, cancelled plans, embarrassment, secrecy and emotional exhaustion.
By the time the survivor recognises the danger, they may feel ashamed to return to the people who warned them.
They fear hearing, “I told you so.”
This is why responses to survivors matter so much.
The most helpful message is not:
“Why didn’t you listen?”
It is:
“I’m glad you told me. You deserve support. We will work through this safely.”
When Behaviour Becomes Frightening
In some relationships, emotional abuse may escalate into threats, stalking, financial control, sexual coercion, damage to property or physical violence.
The person may behave aggressively toward children, animals, strangers or service workers. The survivor may witness a side of them that appears entirely inconsistent with the earlier persona.
After an abusive incident, the person may cry, apologise or promise it will never happen again, while simultaneously blaming the survivor:
“Look what you made me do.”
“You know how to push my buttons.”
“If you hadn’t said that, this would never have happened.”
This is not accountability.
A genuine apology does not transfer responsibility to the harmed person.
Nobody causes another person to become violent simply by disagreeing, setting a boundary or expressing an emotion.
The person choosing aggression remains responsible for that choice.
The Ending: Discard, Departure and Continued Control
Some manipulative relationships end abruptly. The person may withdraw completely, move rapidly into another relationship or behave as though the previous connection meant very little.
Others do not end cleanly.
The person may continue contacting, monitoring, threatening or provoking the survivor. They may alternate between affection and cruelty, attempting to regain access whenever the survivor begins to move forward.
Private disclosures may be weaponised.
Information shared during the early stages of the relationship—trauma histories, fears, mistakes, financial difficulties or family conflicts—may be repeated out of context or used to discredit the survivor.
This can be particularly devastating because the accusations may contain fragments of truth.
The survivor then feels compelled to explain every detail, believing that if they can make others understand the full context, the truth will become clear.
Meanwhile, the person causing harm may appear calm and convincing, while the survivor appears distressed, repetitive or emotionally overwhelmed.
This difference in presentation can influence family members, professionals and even legal systems.
Calmness is not proof of truth.
Distress is not proof of dishonesty.
A traumatised person may struggle to present their story in a neat, linear and unemotional way. Memory under stress can be fragmented, and recounting events may reactivate the body’s threat response.
Trauma-aware practice requires us to understand that presentation and credibility are not the same thing.
Why Leaving Is Not Simple
People often ask why someone stayed.
A more compassionate and useful question is:
“What made leaving difficult or unsafe?”
The reasons may include fear, financial dependency, housing, children, threats, isolation, disability, immigration status, hope, shame, love or concern that the abuse will escalate.
The survivor may also be grieving the person they believed they had met.
That loss is real, even if the relationship was built upon deception.
They are not only leaving the present relationship. They are letting go of the promised future, the person they hoped their partner would become and the version of themselves who believed they had finally found safety.
Leaving may also be the point at which risk increases. Attempts to regain control can intensify when an abusive person recognises that access is ending.
Advice such as “just leave” may therefore be both insensitive and unsafe.
Survivors need carefully considered support, safety planning and access to specialist services.
What Happens Afterwards
The ending of the relationship does not necessarily end the impact.
The nervous system may continue responding as though the threat is present.
The survivor may experience hypervigilance, emotional flashbacks, sleep disturbance, shame, anxiety, numbness, distrust, dissociation or difficulty making decisions.
They may question their judgment:
“How did I not see it?”
“How can I ever trust anyone again?”
“Why do I still miss them?”
“Was it really abuse?”
They may become highly alert to changes in tone, facial expression or communication. Ordinary misunderstandings in future relationships can activate fear connected to the past.
This does not mean the survivor is broken.
It means their mind and body adapted to an unpredictable and threatening environment.
Responses that developed to help someone survive may continue after the danger has passed. Healing involves helping the nervous system recognise that the present is different from the past.
Reconnecting With Emotional Awareness
In the original blog, I wrote about the importance of listening to emotion.
That remains central to my work.
Mindfulness was useful in my recovery, but it was only part of the process. I needed to learn how to notice emotional and physical responses without automatically dismissing them.
I needed to become curious about sensations in my body.
What happened when I felt unsafe?
Where did I notice tension?
What did fear feel like before my thinking mind had found words?
When did I override my instincts to avoid appearing rude, jealous or unreasonable?
Attunement is not about believing that every fearful thought is factually correct. It is about listening respectfully to the information our bodies and emotions are offering.
We can then slow the process down, consider the evidence, seek perspective and make decisions without abandoning ourselves.
Healing is not achieved by becoming less emotional.
It comes through developing a safer, more compassionate relationship with our emotions.
What Does a Healthy Relationship Look Like?
Healthy relationships are not perfect.
They involve two people with different histories, beliefs, moods, needs and ways of interpreting the world. Conflict is inevitable.
The difference lies in how conflict is handled.
A healthy relationship should be grounded in:
Mutual respect
Each person’s dignity, boundaries and individuality are recognised.
Trust
Trust develops through reliability, honesty and consistency. It is not demanded or enforced.
Equality
Neither person is entitled to dominate the other. Decisions, responsibilities and power are shared fairly.
Honesty
Difficult truths can be discussed without deliberate deception, intimidation or punishment.
Compassion
Both people are able to recognise that the other has feelings, needs and vulnerabilities.
Compromise
Each person is sometimes willing to adjust, negotiate and consider the relationship as well as themselves.
These elements may fluctuate. No couple demonstrates all of them perfectly at every moment. However, they should remain fundamentally present and available to both people.
A relationship cannot be sustained by one person giving endlessly while the other takes without accountability.
Relationships are sometimes described as requiring 50/50 effort. I prefer to think of each person as being fully responsible for their own contribution.
Each person must be willing to reflect on the impact of their behaviour, communicate honestly and participate in repair.
No amount of love from one partner can compensate indefinitely for the absence of respect, honesty or responsibility from the other.
There are few experiences lonelier than being in a relationship where love, effort and concern flow in only one direction.
Trauma and the Personal Lens
Every person interprets the world through their own experiences.
In my work, I have sometimes described this as the Personal Opinion Processor: the unique lens through which we make meaning from what we see, hear, feel and experience.
That lens is shaped by countless factors, including age, culture, education, mood, beliefs, relationships, trauma, medication and life experience.
As Anaïs Nin is often quoted as saying:
“We don’t see things as they are; we see them as we are.”
Trauma can influence this lens.
A person who has experienced unpredictability or violence may become highly alert to possible danger. Another may disconnect or dissociate when emotions become overwhelming. Someone else may appease others to reduce the risk of conflict.
These responses are not character flaws.
They are adaptations.
Understanding them helps survivors move away from shame and towards choice.
The aim is not to erase the past. It is to recognise when the past is shaping the present and develop enough safety, awareness and support to respond differently.
A Word About Victim-Blaming
A survivor is not responsible for another person’s decision to manipulate, coerce, deceive or abuse them.
They are not responsible because they trusted.
They are not responsible because they loved.
They are not responsible because they stayed.
They are not responsible because they returned.
They are not responsible because they failed to recognise the pattern quickly enough.
Victim-blaming often disguises discomfort.
It can feel safer to believe that a survivor made an obvious mistake because that allows us to imagine the same thing could never happen to us.
But manipulation succeeds precisely because it does not initially look like manipulation.
It may look like love, generosity, confidence, protection or commitment.
Telling survivors that they should have known better reinforces shame and prevents disclosure. It can also leave the person who caused harm unchallenged.
The responsibility for abuse remains with the person who chose abusive behaviour.
At the same time, survivors deserve support to understand their own patterns, needs and vulnerabilities—not because those things caused the abuse, but because self-understanding can help restore agency and reduce the likelihood of becoming trapped in similar dynamics again.
Responsibility and blame are not the same.
We are not responsible for what someone did to us.
We can become responsible for supporting our own healing.
Hurt People Can Hurt People—but They Do Not Have To
The phrase “hurt people hurt people” contains an important truth, but it should never be used to excuse abuse.
Many people who experience trauma do not go on to harm others.
Pain may help us understand behaviour, but it does not remove responsibility.
Every person has a duty to recognise the impact they have on others and to seek support when their unresolved pain begins shaping their relationships destructively.
Having once been harmed does not create permission to create another victim.
Healing involves interrupting the cycle.
Finding Your Way Back to Yourself
Recovery does not always mean returning to the person you were before the relationship.
Sometimes it means meeting yourself more fully than you ever have before.
It may involve learning to:
Trust your responses without being ruled by fear.
Recognise manipulation without becoming suspicious of everyone.
Set boundaries without believing you are unkind.
Receive support without feeling weak.
Notice when your body feels unsafe.
Understand that confusion can be a response to inconsistency.
Allow grief without interpreting it as a reason to return.
Speak about what happened without carrying the shame of the person who harmed you.
Healing is rarely linear.
There may be days when you feel strong and clear, followed by days when doubt returns. That does not mean you are failing. It means your mind and body are processing a complex experience.
The relationship may have taught you to disconnect from yourself in order to maintain connection with someone else.
Recovery asks you to reverse that process:
To reconnect with yourself.
To listen.
To attune.
To become congruent with what you know, feel and need.
To recognise that your safety matters.
Final Reflection
When I wrote the original series in 2014, I was still searching for explanations.
I wanted to understand how I had become caught in something so damaging and why it had taken so long to recognise what was happening.
Today, I understand that the most important part of the story is not the label given to the person who caused harm.
It is what happened within the relationship.
It is the deliberate confusion, the inconsistency, the misuse of trust, the erosion of confidence, the isolation and the absence of accountability.
It is also the resilience of the survivor.
There is life after a destructive relationship.
There is understanding after confusion.
There is connection after isolation.
There is a way back to safety, and there is a way back to yourself.
If something in your relationship does not feel right, you do not need a diagnosis or a perfect explanation before seeking support.
Pay attention to how the relationship affects you.
Do you feel safe?
Can you speak freely?
Are your boundaries respected?
Can concerns be discussed without retaliation?
Are you allowed to remain fully yourself?
You are not required to prove that someone is a narcissist before acknowledging that their behaviour is harming you.
The impact matters.
Your safety matters.
And what happened to you was not your fault.
Copyright © 2014–2026 Deborah J Crozier. Updated from the original “Falling for a Narcissist: A Victim Perspective” series.